


At the End of the Day

by danceswithhamsters01



Series: Reddit Prompts [75]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Archdemons (Dragon Age), F/M, Love Interest POV, She has feelings on the subject, Swearing, Warden Done Killed an Archdemon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-14
Updated: 2019-10-14
Packaged: 2020-12-15 23:08:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21026255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/danceswithhamsters01/pseuds/danceswithhamsters01
Summary: Based on a prompt from r/dragonage.Prompt 1: The aftermath of the archdemon fight, from the point of view of the main character's love interest or closest friend.What happened immediately after the archdemon came down with a fatal case of dead.





	At the End of the Day

It happened so quickly. He’d seen his amora and Alistair make eye contact and nod. The next thing he knew, she’d grabbed a sword nearly as long as she was tall and made a running charge at the mortally wounded archdemon. A scream that should’ve come from someone bigger than she was ripped from her throat as she plunged the blade into the monster’s skull. There was a violent burst of white light, followed by an echoing boom, and then all he knew was darkness.

Zevran opened first one eye and then the other. A groan crawled from his mouth as he struggled to sit up. He took in his surroundings, trying to ignore the wobbly feeling when he turned his head. _Probably hit it on the stone when I fell,_ he mused while rubbing the sore spot on his head. The sky still held an ominous red and orange hue dotted with dark grey clouds and black smoke that rose upward from the burning city below. The smoke clung to the air, accompanied by the metallic scent of blood, making his nose itch. Common sense would’ve told him to make for anywhere with clean, fresh air as soon as possible. That said, he hadn’t been paying any mind to common sense for over a year, why start now?

His gaze landed on the remains of the great beast first, the massive blade his amora had used to kill it piercing through the top of its head and jutting out from the bottom of its jaw, pinning it to the stone below. _She must have spent a lifetime’s worth of ang__er__ to fuel that__ strike, _he thought with a touch of amusement. _Or perhaps magic. Maybe both._

A sensation that could’ve been hands made of ice squeezing his heart filled him with dread. _Amora? Where are you?! _He pushed himself up from the flagstone beneath him with a grunt. He looked around, heart racing faster for every second he couldn’t see his mage. Alistair had done Morrigan’s ritual! His Warden should still be alive! The witch had promised it would work, that the one who struck the deathblow would be spared!

The assassin ran past the knights and mages who were either struggling to sit up or were helping their fellows on to their feet. A battered but very much alive Arl Eamon was helping an injured and exhausted First Enchanter Irving up from the ground. Zevran paid them next to no mind, he’d spotted a small form laying on the ground some ways off that was far too still for his liking. He ignored the pain that shot up from his knees as he dropped down beside her.

“Amora! Can you hear me? Please, wake up!” He shook her shoulder as he spoke in a frantic clip. She did not respond. He could not tell if she drew breath or not. He tried and failed to ignore the geyser-like spike in his anxiety. He held the hopefully-just-unconscious Sevarra against his chest.

“This is not funny, my love. You need to wake up. Please.”

A whimper of pain reached his ears. At that moment, it sounded every bit as beautiful to him as any of Antiva’s minstrels playing his favorite song. He thought he might’ve heard words, but they were too soft to decipher.

A small dry, cracking voice spoke again. “Did the fucking thing sit on me? My everything hurts.”

He let loose a laugh and pressed a kiss to her forehead. _Thank you, Maker. __Thank you, Morrigan._

“The pain is likely because the blast sent you flying through the air, after which you landed on solid stone, to say nothing of all the fighting you and your companions did while working your way to the top of the tower,” a raspy voice coming from somewhere behind the pair answered. The First Enchanter came hobbling into view, leaning heavily on his staff. He knelt down and lifted the Warden’s chin, peering down at her as if inspecting an injured animal.

“A concussion, among other things,” he muttered before weaving a spell, pale green light shimmering from his palms as he pressed one of them to her forehead. Zevran watched with curiosity as the larger of Sevarra’s pupils began to shrink in size, eventually matching the smaller one.

“I should be doing that. You should be resting,” she protested weakly.

“I am old, not incapacitated, young lady,” Irving replied with a chuckle. “And you are in no state to be casting anything more demanding than summoning a wisp. Rest.”

After the elder mage had hobbled off to see to someone else, Zevran stroked his Warden’s cheek with a smile. “You did it, amora. The archdemon lies dead, and now the land can begin rebuilding, yes?”

“**We **did it, Zev, all of us,” she said adamantly.

“Yes, yes, of course,” he smiled. He leaned down and stole a kiss, only to find himself pulled back for another after the first one ended. They sat there in each other’s arms for a time, tired but pleased chuckling taking the place of words.

Eventually, the pair crawled up from the cold stone and joined Alistair and Eamon taking count of the casualties. While there were many wounded, the death toll wasn’t as high as it could’ve been. All of the mages who’d answered the call to battle still lived, even if some had suffered serious injuries that would demand a lengthy convalescence. Zevran held an arm around Sevarra’s waist, helping the exhausted Warden to remain steady when she walked. As they drew near to what remained of the archdemon, she wiggled free of his grip, features twisted into a snarl, eyes fixed on the carcass.

“Stupid fucking dragon… thing!” she growled, kicking the draconic corpse in one of its unseeing milky white eyes. She followed the kick with a distinctly unladylike display of spitting on the thing’s face.

Zevran couldn’t help chuckling at the sight. His laughter died when he saw her bend and reach for a discarded great-sword. “Amora, are you certain that is wise--” He didn’t get to finish his thought. She hefted the weapon high over her head and brought it down in an arc, slicing through the archdemon’s neck, separating the head from the rest of the body.

“AND STAY DEAD!” she screamed at the remains. The weapon fell from her shaking hands and clattered to the ground. She panted for breath as she sank to her knees. The outburst had drawn the attention of every conscious person at the top of Fort Drakon. Some watched in stunned silence. Others, not so much.

“Well, that’s one way to make sure it stays dead,” Alistair chuckled.

Zevran pushed through his own exhaustion and hurried to his Warden’s side. “I believe it is time we find somewhere to rest. We’ve done enough dragon killing for one lifetime.” He helped her to her feet once more.

“Ugh. Stairs. We have to go down all those stairs. I feel even more tired just thinking of it,” the mage whined.

Rather than make the trek back to down to the city right away, Alistair ordered a few knights to act as runners to get in contact with the rest of the army. After that came the process of herding the wounded into the barracks several flights below. Zevran and his Warden claimed a cot in one corner and sat, leaning into each other. Within moments, they dozed off. Celebrating would have to wait until after a well-deserved nap.

**Author's Note:**

> Zevran knows about the Dark Ritual because... Morrigan enlisted his help. Surely the Warden wouldn't say no to her request if the Warden's betrothed also said it was a good idea? They convinced her to convince Alistair to do the ritual. Sevarra was not exactly gleeful about it, she knew that Morrigan and Alistair despised each other. But the thought dying before getting the chance to marry her Zevran, or worse, her good friend sacrificing himself, just wouldn't do.


End file.
